


The Kissing Bush

by mara87



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 19:48:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1110828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mara87/pseuds/mara87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Camelot is full of the Yuletide spirit and Days of Twelve, but one new addition to all the tradition causes Arthur to turn green with jealousy, the kissing bush.  Read to find out why and rest assured, happy ending promised.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> This was a fic that just kept growing, especially after seeing the wonderful artwork created for it.  So it will be posted in three parts.  It is cannon until Morgana’s first takeover of Camelot.  From there it goes AU.  

# The Kissing Bush

**The Kissing Bush**

Written for **[rubberglue](http://rubberglue.tumblr.com/)** who made a beautifully generous donation over at **[Fandomaid](http://fandomaid.livejournal.com/)**  to help the Philippines.  She requested a jealous Arthur as one of the prompts she let me choose from. :) 

**Characters:** Arthur, Gwen, Merlin, Elyan, Percival, Gwaine, Leon (no Gaius, sorry, just didn’t feel like including him) and an important OC

**Artwork:** the wonderfully talented and generous **[bound—to—you](http://bound--to--you.tumblr.com/)**

Hope you enjoy and happy holiday season to everyone.  Let’s keep spreading that Arwen love. :)

***

**The Kissing Bush**

_**Part I of III** _

It was a special time of year for the kingdom of Camelot, the grassy lands and forests blanketed by thick shining banks and plateaus of snow.  Such ivory beauty was everywhere, as so were the cold temperatures, even on those days that the sun played peek-a-boo with the clouds.  Nevertheless, it was not much hindrance when other than a fun sleigh ride and an impromptu snowball fight, most of the festivities were held inside the castle, where the hot fires burned within the stone hearths, keeping spirits warm. 

The festivities included a number of sole accordance, twelve.  Usually the king led the fanfare and tradition, but not this year.  No, this year, twelve had become a thorn in the king’s side so voluminous that at present moment he was outside where the temperatures had reached a frigid depth in the late afternoon, smacking one of the training dummies with his sword.  Given more thought, he wouldn’t mind actually cutting down a few hanging bushes with said sword. 

You see, it wasn’t supposed to be like this.  Arthur considered the holiday season one of his favorites, his love for it born since childhood.  Yuletide meant the memorable twelve days of celebration, and custom surrounding said number.  Twelve tables, each filled by twelve guests who gave twelve toasts to peace and harmony.  Twelve sections of holly to be hung, separated by servants and sometimes noble people alike, the friendly interaction creating a feeling of fairness and solidarity.  Twelve days of those glowing fires within the hearths, twelve different dishes of food to warm up cold stomachs.  And for sweethearts and loving families, twelve days of gifts. 

There were even more acts of twelve, but it was a particular novel one that had gotten Arthur’s goat, causing him to be outside now, tearing away at the innocent lifeless dummy. 

It was strategically hung at every entrance of the dining halls, above head.  One could not pass by, once noticing its hanging, without a kiss, twelve different times.  Nothing said it had to be on the lips.  It certainly could be a friendly one, but uh, a kiss was required indeed.  Needless to say not a single knight walked below with another knight in attendance.  For that would be a funny sight, knightly men puckering up for each other.  Hah, no instead, they grabbed the prettiest lady they could find, their sweetheart or such, and ‘accidentally’ sauntered underneath.

Pretty Ladies.  Charming men.  Oh, all of it, and that dang bush was such a terrible source now of Arthur’s green rage. 

“You know it would probably be easier to just cut down the bush, hack it away with your sword.”

It was the one time servant, now sort of court magician, who gave Arthur the advice, making the king roll his eyes before uttering a choice warning. 

“I still have that pointy hat and robe of constellations, Merlin.”

Merlin let out a tight grimace, before his mood changed like that of the unpredictable peek-a-boo sun.  His voice now sing-song encouraging, he stated, “Cheer up Arthur.  They’ve already done it eight times.  Just four more to go!”

_And that was supposed to be helpful._

The king’s teeth gritted harshly, the green rage intensifying, instead of settling.  Yuletide was supposed to be joyous and fun, a period of release, which after the past two climactic and sometimes intrepid years, king and kingdom sorely needed. 

It was two years ago that Morgana took over Camelot, nearly defeating and killing his father.  That was when Arthur too learned about Merlin’s magic in a shocking moment.  Morgause, Morgana’s older sister, had tried heartedly to kill the then king, but Merlin intervened with lightning balls of sorcery, gravely injuring Morgause. 

While that was going on, Arthur fought off Morgana’s ‘borrowed’ soldiers, formerly following Cenred’s lead, but Morgause had murdered Cenred before the attack on Camelot could be fulfilled.  When Morgana realized that her sister was close to dying, the castle was assaulted by blazes of smoke and fire, brought on by her magical upset.  Oh how her shrill screams had echoed terribly throughout the damaged castle before suddenly Morgause and Morgana disappeared entirely. 

Now two years later, Arthur hadn’t seen either since that awful time, which he was fine with.  As much as sharing a relationship with his real life sibling of half would have brought warmth to his heart once, after Morgana’s treachery, it was something he no longer considered.  She had made herself the enemy and Arthur no longer trusted her, especially after how close she came to putting his father to death.

From that day on, his father was suffering from a broken heart and beginnings of dementia.  One year after Morgana’s attack, Uther Pendragon died, but before that happened, Arthur decided he needed assistance.  With Uther no longer acting as king, it was the son’s role now, and so new to it, so young to it, he wanted advice from someone of noble experience. 

So in came Agravaine, his mother’s brother, but Agravaine had an agenda of his own.  Secretly for so long blaming Uther for not only his sister’s death, but his younger brother’s too, Agravaine wanted to ruin Uther, and take his power, by killing his son, and making Camelot his own. 

At a time that Arthur was away on a mission of peace, Agravaine took control of the castle, and would have then killed Uther Pendragon, if it wasn’t for the quick bravery of Lancelot. 

Sadly, the noble knight died for his faithful efforts, but of fortune the attack was thwarted.  Agravaine was sentenced to death for his evilness. 

Nevertheless, Uther’s demise couldn’t be stopped.  The short, but violent battle had taken it out of him, and no more than two weeks later, Uther died quietly in his sleep. 

They were a pair of years filled with misery indeed, but along with that came resolution and expanding of love. 

Learning that Merlin was a sorcerer during Morgana’s attack on Camelot caused Arthur to be furious and hurt.  In fact, for a week following, Arthur put Merlin in the cells below, treating him like he was a criminal.  It was only with Gwen’s gentle coaxing that Arthur finally let him out, calming down his volatile temper enough to allow the servant to speak. 

Even still, it was a tough year between servant and acting king, filled of uncertainty and mistrust.  So at odds with Merlin, Arthur spent more time with his knights, arranging quests far from the castle. 

Once again, it was Gwen’s continued words of wisdom and gentle gestures of holding his hand, that got Arthur to realize that although his servant had lied, it was done with noble reason. 

Truly it wasn’t magic alone that was evil, but the mind controlling it that could turn it to something vile.  His friendship with Merlin thus restored, and actually stronger than ever, for now they were sort of more equals, Arthur spent the second year, learning with Merlin’s guidance, about the mysterious Druids of the forests.  Although some refused to have anything to do with the offspring of the man who caused them so much misery, there were a good sum of others who were thankful for a peaceful alliance with the king, and welcomed him and Merlin into their homes and such. 

Arthur learned with even greater depth of understanding then, that magic was not of choice often, but born to a person.  And that was something he could identify with greatly, for it was so similar to how prince became king.  Such, Merlin had become Dragonlord, from father to son. 

Along with a new magical understanding, Arthur had partially, sometimes strongly, steered further away from how his father ruled kingdom, starting with the special Round Table, Gwen and Merlin gifting him with it on his last birthday.  All the chairs surrounding it were of equal height, signifying that once seated no one had dominance over another.  All voices of expression were important. 

Said belief extended far and beyond.  Not only had Camelot allied with some of the Druid people, leading to less bandit uprisings, but also gathered up alliances with foreign kingdoms, added to its longtime friends.  Not even the great ocean could prevent this, quick sailing boats and magnificently sized ships built to make the task easier. 

Thus let it be said, Camelot was at peace now with very few threats of graveness.  Arthur was no fool though.  He knew such time of harmony would only be temporary.  No doubt, they had not seen the last of Morgana, Morgause, and other foes.  The coming year alone might bring many new challenges.

And so it was important to relish every moment of unanimity with kinship and happiness.  That was so much of what the days of twelve was about, and yet Arthur was feeling no affinity for it at said moment, battling away instead at the poor dummy.

Of course if the king was to be in a deprecating mood he’d probably admit it was his fault, but that wasn’t likely to happen for such a bold man.  Nevertheless, Merlin had nagged him about it enough times that Arthur even sometimes wondered why he kept putting it off.  You could argue it was tied to the false assurance that nothing would ever interfere between him and the woman he loved. 

Honestly though, interference had richly made its appearance since the beginning of their courtship.  Having to keep everything so secretive for so long didn’t help much, allowing only a few precious kisses.  Lancelot too was a little kink in the bridge to each other, but still anything concerning him had been dealt with far before the knight bravely gave his life for Camelot. 

So Arthur supposed it was this fact that gave him hesitation, the people of Camelot had been through a lot in the past two years, especially the first of those.  Arthur had grown from his more self-serving days, developing the humility that Gwen wanted him to have, but also strength of rule and regard for kingdom before all else, even eternal love.  That was why he told Gwen they’d wait just one more year for marriage, when she could finally become his and the people’s queen.

A tug of annoyance had crossed her face then, but calmly she accepted, as Gwen was akin to such an even temperament that softened his more action oriented one. 

Nothing seemed amiss either until the last festival celebrated in Camelot just weeks ago, observing the shortest day of winter’s cycle.  Many were in attendance, including a grabby handed princess who refused to let him go the entire night.  She was unfortunately the much beloved and spoiled daughter of a king that Arthur wanted desperately to set up alliance with to keep the ominous threat of the Saxons at bay.  They were attempting attacks through adjacent areas.  If the kingdoms were united they’d have more power in stopping such threats so that meant upsetting the princess was a dangerous choice.  Therefore Arthur was reluctantly playing up the part that he was very much interested in the spoiled little noble.  

After trying to escape from her for a moment’s breather, it was to his shock that not only did she follow him, but started amorously kissing him in the darkened halls of the castle’s rear. 

All of this Merlin reminded him of now.  “You know none of this would have happened Arthur if you hadn’t kissed that princess during the End of Winter Cycle Festival.  After seeing that sordid display, of course Gwen was upset!”

Arthur quickly gave Merlin a fierce look, his verbal complaint focusing on the servant’s blunders, rather than his own.  “Princess Verona.  Yes, Merlin, I remember.  She’s the daughter of the king of Narsinga who I was just one day away from negotiating a peace treaty with.  If I had upset her, it would have fallen apart.”  Arthur stepped away from the dummy, rubbing his hands back and forth, the sword dropped to the ground.  “Of course you could have helped, having the prestige of being court sorcerer and all, by enchanting her in some way against me.”

A sour expression lining his face, Merlin shook his head.  “Last time I did that the results weren’t exactly favorable.  Didn’t want a repeat.”

Arthur’s expression turned gleefully malicious.  “Oh yes, that’s right!  When you turned the duke’s daughter into a bird.  And he couldn’t understand why that suddenly turned up bawking chicken was wearing his daughter’s shawl!”

Merlin rolled his eyes with disdain. 

Clotpole. 

Sometimes magic went awry, especially when placed upon sentient beings.  Messing with affairs of the heart, well it was precarious at best. 

“Look, if you just prove-

Arthur cut him off now, noticing provocatively disturbing movement at the eastern entrance to the dining hall.  His nostrils flared like an angry stallion’s, his knuckles cracking, and his skin turning red.  Like fire. 

Merlin observed what was producing the king’s wrath before stating lamely, “Okay, now that was number nine.”

Arthur lifted his sword.  Strong warning.

Merlin lifted his hands.  Strong defense.  “Now Arthur, touch me and it’s no certainty what you might become.  Even a sword carrying rooster.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, stalking away, recalling the night that this whole foolish thing got started.

**—**

_Princess Verona’s hands were on his cheek and back, her lips hotly warm and pressing so hard against his he was gasping for air.  Soon after that he was all but leaping away as she grabbed onto his rear with her long thin fingers._

_“Princess!”_

_“Oh my Lord.  How you protest.  And yet I’ve seen the way you’ve been making eyes at me.  Let’s find a corner within the castle so we can be alone.  She squeezed, getting Arthur to jump up high with a squeal._

_“Princess Verona, as tantalizing as you are…”  He whispered, teeth gritting roughly._

_“I…uh…”_

_Where in all of Camelot was Merlin when he needed him?  Some court sorcerer!  He was probably doing that juggling trick for the umpteenth time.  The man learned how to throw a few balls in the air and everyone acted like it was the most spectacular thing they ever saw.  Humph!  What about his sword prowess?  Much more entertaining than catching balls._

_Uh…speaking of…_

_Arthur fought to not slap the princess’s hand as he carefully swiped it away from the lower part of his trousers, right at the peak of his manhood.  This woman was relentless!  If it wasn’t for the necessity of the treaty being signed, he’d have been done with her days ago.  She certainly wasn’t all that likable, complaining with whines and rants to all the servants, including Guinevere._

_Oh Guin, she had been a saint the past days, meeting up with Arthur late in the night so they could enjoy some private time together away from prying eyes.  They never did anything too risky, but often clothing would fall askew and uh, hands and lips would find intimate places._

_You see, when Guinevere touched and kissed him Arthur felt warmly glowing, alive and excited.  When Princess Verona kept grasping him like she audaciously was now, he wanted to call the guards to lock her up._

_Just one more day._

_Guinevere kept telling him that for the welfare of Camelot it would be worth it, but oh the pertinacious princes didn’t make it at all easy._

_“Princess Verona…”  He cooed, after removing her grabby hands, locking them with his bigger, and worked ones.  “You are a woman of utmost beauty.  And laughter that would bring the birds singing.”_

_More like make them fly south for it was a high pitch that developed a tortured groan in him.  But the treaty, the treaty, the treaty._

_“How my fingers itch to touch your porcelain skin…But milady, we cannot be like this.  Meeting in corners of the castle and such.  I cannot ruin your good name.  We will have to wait until the time is right.”_

_“And when will that be?”  She excitedly asked, getting Arthur to think._

_Years.  Centuries.  End of the world._

_“Um…I must be honest.  I do not know yet.  Perhaps days.”_

_She kissed him then again, her tongue flitting through his mouth before he could give protest.  Then it audaciously rubbed hard against his._

_Oh, enough!_

_Arthur pushed to get her away, but the damage was done.  The princess whispered with a coy tone, palm to mouth, “Until later then Darling.”_

_The observing wide eyed handmaiden fixed an unaffected expression upon her face as the princess gave her a disdainful look.  “What are you looking at?  Gwendolyn or whatever your name is.  I shall require your services in my room within ten minutes.  Now stop gaping!  And get back to work!”_

_Arthur stared at the woman he loved, angrily spitting the words out before he could control them.  “Her name is Gwen.  And Princess Verona I would prefer that you allow me to do the ordering of my servants.”_

_Verona, so besotted with Arthur and never daring to think that he would be interested in a mere servant, simply stated, “Very well.”  And then with a suggestive womanly bounce, she ascended the steps to her room._

_Arthur waited until he could no longer hear her tread to move forward._

_Howbeit, Gwen backed away quickly._

_He shook his head with protest.  “This isn’t what it looks like.  Guinevere, I told you before, she’s terribly insistent.”_

_Gwen’s expression was lined by deep hurt.  Although she had told Arthur to do what was necessary to get the treaty signed, she had never thought it would go this far, the princess thrusting her tongue in Arthur’s mouth, and grasping his rear._

_Beyond that, Gwen now knew how insufferable the Princess Verona could be.  Earlier in the day she had yelled at one of the youngest and shyest servants, ranting at her about how filthy her bed-sheets were.  The poor girl was so unglued by it all that Gwen stepped in and took over her duties for the day._

_Now witnessing how Verona had attempted to seduce the man she loved while his fight seemed weak at best, Gwen was quite upset._

_“Yes Arthur, I saw how insistent.  I also saw how you didn’t seem to dissuade her.”_

_Arthur grasped onto Gwen’s arms, feeling the less expensive, but soft and well-tailored material of her lavender dress.  It didn’t matter that Gwen had little money.  She could sew like a woman enchanted with the gift.  So talented was Guinevere.  “It’s only one more day.  Then there will be nothing more to do with her.  I just have to get her father to sign that treaty.  If I had upset her tonight, no doubt he would leave in a huff.”_

_“So you’ll upset her tomorrow?”  Gwen asked incredulously.  “Arthur, not only is that sneaky, but terribly rude.”_

_To that the king raised his hands with exasperation.  “So what else would you have me do?  Need I remind you Guinevere that you’re the one who encouraged me to keep up with this?  Now you’re looking at me like I cheated upon you.”_

_Gwen turned away with disdain.  He was throwing her words back at her, but all that kept flashing in front of her eyes was the princess pressing herself upon him so intimately it was almost like they had been joined together, and with that the terrible sounds made when her mouth fastened onto his.  Wet smacking, oh, she wished it didn’t bother her so, but it did._

_“I know I told you that.  But-_

_She wouldn’t look at him now and the princess’s shenanigans had put him in a sore mood so Arthur’s response was a fierce one.  “But what, Guinevere?”_

_He sounded so angry, but what about her, eh?  How could Arthur be so blind to not see that this was so agonizing?_

_“It is not easy Arthur.  I have always tried to live my life in the most humble way, keeping my mind at peace.  But falling in love with you has always felt like fires burning through that calm, for never has it been simple.  Years of our lives, to be within inches of each other could have ascertained impending death, for me at least, and loss of heritage for you.  Now that awful threat is no longer there, but still we have to do this, play a charade because you are king and your kingdom comes first.”_

_“It is as much your kingdom Guinevere.”_

_She shook her head vehemently, disagreement full.  “I have no royal bearing as you do.  I have no say in how the kingdom is ruled.  I am simply one of its citizens and one of your subjects.”_

_He hated it when she referred to herself in such way, for since falling in love with her Arthur had always considered Gwen essential to his being and to Camelot.  “You know you are more to me.”  He lifted his hands to coax her near.  “Now come on Guinevere-_

_“She was grabbing your ASS!”_

_The words were shot from Gwen’s mouth so spontaneously, getting her to press hand to mouth afterward, shaking her head back and forth ruefully.  This was exactly what she had wanted to avoid, getting into a jealous wild sounding altercation._

_“Oh you see what you make me do!”_

_A low chuckle escaped Arthur’s lips.  Her anger raised and her cheeks flooding with scarlet hue, caused Arthur’s desires to lift._

_One pull of her waist and her got her into a concealed archway of the castle, where touching each other wouldn’t feel so forbidden.  So sure of himself and their love, Arthur held no doubt that everything would be alright.  Moving his face sensuously against hers, and feeling their noses brushing together, lips just inches away, he breathed her in dazedly._

_Somehow she always managed to smell like flowers, wild from a forest’s exotic patch, rather than the tame and orderly scents of the palace gardens.  He could get lost in that forever, become tangled in those dark curls of hair, cemented by those dazzling midnight eyes, and enchanted by the evocatively shaped mouth that he kissed the corner of now._

_She was hungrily gazing up at him as Arthur whispered “I’d rather it be you grabbing it.”  Then he closed in further for an even more delving kiss, his mouth circling hers with intended aim, locking onto the luxurious center of her top lip, and then his tongue sliding past…and in._

_Arthur had sorely underestimated the situation though, thinking that some physical enjoyment could be the remedy when it was bound to be short of the cure.  As much as Arthur’s kisses flooded Gwen with warmth, and that daring tongue made her knees feel a little weak, getting her to lean against the wall for a few precious seconds, It just wasn’t enough._

_For surely it was bound to happen again, like it always did, always would, until Arthur made the decision she sometimes worried he might never make._

_He had forced her hand tonight, and it was too bad she couldn’t force his own, because then maybe he would finally see, but one thing was certain.  Gwen could no longer be part of this charade._

_Her hand came out, palm flattening against his chest, getting Arthur to gasp before stepping away.  “What is it?”  He asked her, breathing faster now._

_“If all you say is true, you should have objected to the princess more fully and firmly.”_

_“You’re doubting my sincerity?”  Arthur asked, eyebrows raised and peaked like a pair of angry crows’ beaks._

_Gwen shrugged.  “You didn’t push her away.  The words you said to her…the way you whispered them…”_

_“Guinevere.”  He tried again, but she was far from finished._

_“You don’t comprehend Arthur.  You just don’t.  For years I have held myself just for you.  Do you think no one else was ever interested?”_

_Arthur looked away for a moment, before he hissed out.  “Lancelot.  Of course I remember.”_

_“More than just Lancelot, actually.  I’ve even had knights a few times give me a certain eye.”_

_“What knights?”  Arthur asked harshly._

_She shook her head.  “It does not matter Arthur.”_

_“Sure it does.”_

_Gwen knew now entirely.  None of this would ever lead anywhere fruitful because Arthur didn’t see what was too foreign to him.  A royal by birth, he always had women flocking to him, and as a man he had great choice.  A woman, a servant nonetheless, Gwen had to be more careful, and silence her tongue as other women sauntered his way.  Well fine, but the situation still needed amendment._

_“It does not.”_

_Gwen grasped Arthur’s hands, telling him solemnly, “Because I have never given them reason to look again.  You see Arthur, each time they give me that eye, I look the other way respectfully.  For my heart…”  She pressed one hand against her chest.  “Is tied to yours.  Even though sometimes I wish that wasn’t true.”_

_“Guin-_

_She could see his remorse, but with it was irritation.  Arthur was used to getting his way, and as long as something worked fine for him, he didn’t see why others found argument with it.  He truly did not understand.  As irritated as he might be, so was she.  And beyond that, too hurt to continue this in the same fashion._

_She needed some peace and distance._

_“You told me that I would have to wait for your hand in marriage.  And I accepted that.  Well now, I think you should wait too.  I think we should both take a pause from each other.  If having pretty princesses, who are actually horrible people, grabbing at your lower posterior is of delight to you, then perhaps you and I need time separate from each other.”_

_Arthur’s reaction was fierce, his hands squeezing hers fervently._

_“Guinevere, I told you I didn’t even like what she was doing!  This is crazy!  I’m in love with you, and you alone Guinevere!”_

_In Gwen’s midnight eyes was glimmering sadness, and yet her voice was controlled and determined as she shrugged away his grasp and clasped both his cheeks with her fingers.  “Prove it then.  Prove it to me once and for all.”_

_She stepped away, giving a shake of her head.  “Oh, not now.  For I see it in your tight stance and your irritated glare.  You’re not ready yet.  But when you are…find me.  Perhaps then all hesitation will be gone on both sides.”_

_Arthur’s hand latched onto her waist, his hold a tad desperate and his breathing fast once more.  “Guinevere.  I’m ready now.”_

_She wished that was true._

_Howbeit, his protests were just a man’s yearnings, not a solidified decision.  “You’re not.”_

_Her shoulders were pulled far back, her chest out to its most beautiful proportion.  And her mouth, those lovely lips were set.  Arthur lifted his hand to get her to listen, but it was a feeble attempt at best.  His fingers dropped and he saw her nod._

_“Princess Verona is waiting for me no doubt.  She’s an impatient woman.  Excuse me my Lord.”  She gave him a deep curtsy before ascending the steps so rapidly, just in case her heart murmured dissension._

_At the bottom of the steps Arthur stood sadly, hands wringing with dismay.  He wanted to follow her and say it wasn’t true, but then that would be a falsehood.  He wasn’t just a man anymore.  He was a king with responsibilities and in that he was…_

_Alone._

_***_


	2. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  Camelot is full of the Yuletide spirit and Days of Twelve, but one new addition to all the tradition causes Arthur to turn green with jealousy, the kissing bush.  Read to find out why and rest assured, happy ending promised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  This was a fic that just kept growing, especially after seeing the wonderful artwork created for it.  So it will be posted in three parts.  It is cannon until Morgana’s first takeover of Camelot.  From there it goes AU.  

#  The Kissing Bush

Written for **[rubberglue](http://rubberglue.tumblr.com/)** who made a beautifully generous donation over at **[Fandomaid](http://fandomaid.livejournal.com/)**  to help the Philippines.  She requested a jealous Arthur as one of the prompts she let me choose from. :) 

**Characters:** Arthur, Gwen, Merlin, Elyan, Percival, Gwaine, Leon (no Gaius, sorry, just didn’t feel like including him) and an important OC

**Artwork:** the wonderfully talented and generous **[bound—to—you](http://bound--to--you.tumblr.com/)**

Hope you enjoy and happy holiday season to everyone.  Let’s keep spreading that Arwen love. :)

***

**The Kissing Bush**

_**Part II of III** _

***

For the next weeks Gwen was true to her word. She spent no private time with him and even when he attempted gaining entrance to her home, she politely asked him to leave. So finally Arthur gave up and continued with matters of state. 

Now it was the seventh of the Days of Twelve, Christmas already past. There were just five more and so far Arthur hadn’t kissed a single person while Gwen had been kissed nine times by Gloier, Sorleois’s new king. 

It was common during the twelve days for guests to take temporary residence within the castle, the cold winter winds and varied storms too harsh to make regular travel a wise thought. This time Gloier was one of those guests in attendance.

Tall, thin, with long raven hair that he fastened into a ponytail at his back, and sporting a roughly stubbled beard and mustache, he was a different kind of king, following his own custom and rule. Having inherited the fertile land after his father’s death a year ago, Gloier believed that servants should be treated with the same strong regard as nobles, a rare belief that had begun in the kingdom of Sorleois many years ago. Hence, there was no dishonor in associating intimately with lower members of society, importantly included in that a certain handmaiden of Camelot. 

Regardless, it had stunned Arthur at first when Gloier came to him, expressing his peculiar interest. 

_“Arthur, a word.”_

_“Certainly.” Arthur smiled tactfully, not really in the mood, what with just about every knight enjoying the festivity with a beautiful lady at their side, while he kept watching Gwen quietly as she served table after table, not giving him a glance._

_“That woman. Who is she?”_

_Arthur was so distracted that he focused at first still with that overly polite smile, before he realized who Gloier was pointing to._

_“Uh…that…um…”_

_“Got something caught in your throat?” Gloier asked as Arthur started coughing after his mumbling faded off._

_“No. Uh. That is Gwen. She is a house servant. A woman of little importance. Why don’t I sh-_

_“Does she have someone then?”_

_Arthur didn’t like the sound of that. Gwen wasn’t property, and yes she did have someone. Him. She had-oh. “Um, well.”_

_“Is she with you?”_

_Other dignitaries were watching as Arthur answered the question, most of them listening intently. Arthur’s mouth felt dry. He coughed again, getting Gloier to lift up his glass. “Here. Drink. You look like you’ve choked upon a bone.”_

_Arthur gulped the wine and shook his head. What was wrong with him? All he had to do was tell Gloier the truth, that he loved her. But a part of him was mad at her for not understanding. For insisting that they stay separate until he did some grand gesture that he had no idea what it was supposed to be. And another part feared that maybe she was never going to come around. Maybe being with a king wasn’t what she wanted at all anymore. At least not the king of Camelot._

_Arthur swallowed another gulp of wine, before shaking his head and stating what he’d later regret, “No. She’s a handmaiden. We’re not together.”_

_“Splendid!” Gloier let out then, patting Arthur on the shoulder before making his way across the room._

_“What’s going on?” Merlin came to stand beside Arthur, asking him the question as they watched Gloier stop Gwen in her work._

_She took a step back from him with shock, but then Gloier was being his charming self. His lips pressed upon the back of her hand before he asked her a very important question. Gwen stared at Gloier, and then looked to Arthur._

_The king turned away noncommittally, getting Merlin to rant. “Stop him! Are you crazy? Tell him what Gwen means to you!”_

_“Shut up Merlin.”_

Five minutes later, after sharing some further short conversation with the king, Gwen included in the interaction, and Gloier was taking Gwen’s hand. 

Thirty minutes later he had her upon the dance floor and they were circling around each other. 

And an hour after that his thin, albeit strong, hand had pulled her to one of the entrance ways, his kiss gentle upon her cheek as they stood underneath the kissing bush. 

The first of twelve kisses it would have to be by tradition.

Arthur’s turn away from her annoyed Gwen fiercely as she simultaneously felt a bit bewildered by all of Gloier’s attentions. Because of him every night of Twelve she was not serving anyone, but dining at a table with the nobles, sharing conversation, rich food, and throat warming wine. 

When Gloier had first kissed the back of her hand and expressed his interest to spend his time in Camelot with her nights ago, Gwen shook her head, telling him she was a servant and was expected to work.

So what had Gloier done then? Giving her his arm he escorted her straight to the king who had just sat back down with his knights, and a disgruntled looking Merlin, to finish his meal.

_“Excuse me Sire. A moment of your time again please.”_

_Arthur got up then with a grunt, but perfectly placed smile and listened as Gloier told him he’d like to have Gwen as a guest at his table for the twelve days. Arthur looked straight to Gwen after that, asking quietly, “Is that what you would like Guinevere?”_

_She kept her eyes to the floor. “I’m a servant, Sire. It is my work to attend to everyone during the festivities.”_

_“And yet if I granted you pardon from your services, would you like to join Gloier at his table?”_

_Gwen did look up then, between the two of them, noticing Gloier’s hopeful smile and Arthur’s sober expression. It came out before she could think upon it much. It was just a fact. Sometimes being expected to do nothing but serve, got tiring. In less than an hour, Gloier, a handsomely interesting man no doubt, had treated her like a man would a princess. Although her heart still held strong reservation for one man alone, her spirit needed some reprieve._

_Besides, it wasn’t like Arthur was protesting it. If he loved her so fully, he should be fighting for her. Tell Gloier his feelings, but he did not. So stubborn. Well she could be the same. It would be nice to actually be part of all the celebrations, not look upon it from the outside only._

_“Yes Sire, I would.”_

Arthur gave a short nod to that before giving his consent to Gloier, and then walked out of the room for a moment’s breath. 

Gwen had watched his back’s retreat more than Gloier’s contented grin.

…

Now there were less than five days left, and Gwen was feeling confused and unsettled while Arthur worked to contain himself, the weather outdoors this evening much too chilled to be hacking away at the abused dummy. 

There were certainly enough noble ladies in attendance to catch his eye, but Arthur ignored all of them, instead keeping his blue eyes on the seventh table where Gloier sat with Gwen and ten others. They were all nobility and so you would think Gwen would feel awkward with them. 

After all, the beginning day of Twelve, she was serving them all. Credit it to her peace of mind however, that after a few rambling comments. Gwen had regained her ease and was conversing with the noble guests like she was one of them too. 

Arthur knew that well because he had been listening in to just about every conversation at table seven, after making sure that table twelve was positioned right next to it, something the knights found a bit amusing…and odd.

“Aren’t we the twelfth table Arthur?” Percival asked him with a confused crease to his brow. It was actually the same dilemma he had been musing about every night since Arthur first had the tables moved.

Arthur answered him dismissively, listening intently to what Gloier was whispering in Gwen’s ear. He could just kind of make out his lips. Seemed to be saying…

“Arthur?”

“Shhh!” He spat out fiercely, barely giving his knight a glance as ninety percent of his attention was focused upon table seven. Unfortunately, the whispering was over. Blasted Percy and his terrible timing.

“Arthur?”

“Yes!” He snapped, getting Gwaine to chuckle and smile at his lady friend. The cheeky knight knew exactly what was going on and found it very amusing. Leon’s red brows lifted. He was still a little confused by it all, while Elyan covered an attempted snicker with his napkin.

“Did you hear what I said?” Percival asked with stubborn insistence and continued confusion.

Arthur nodded his head vigorously. “Yes, yes we are. I’ve told you this already. But now the twelfth table is next to the seventh table with the fifth table on the other end. Okay?”

“That makes no sense Arthur.” Percival argued, while the lady he was sitting next to patted his shoulder patiently. “And what about the sixth table?”

Said sixth table was in the peculiar position now usually reserved for the twelfth, and not sure whether to be flattered by it or nervous by all the attention. One thing was for certain though. None of the people sitting there planned on complaining to the king. He didn’t seem in that great of a mood lately, though he did a fine job most of the time hiding it with a very toothy smile.

“Well it does now!” Arthur stated without any real sense of what he was talking about. Okay, so the twelfth table was supposed to be at the center and was now completely out of order. Big deal. At least he was close enough to hear them and oh…

“Doesn’t he ever stop dancing?” Arthur asked with a sneer.

“Got to admit. My sister’s pretty good.” Elyan added in, getting Arthur to begrudgingly nod in agreement. 

So many years of Gwen serving tables, Arthur had never danced with her before, nor seen her take the floor with anyone else. It was evident that first night with Gloier however, that while Gwen was new to taking center stage, she had a natural grace in her step that was fascinating to watch. 

Confounded by amazement and the strong desire to push Gloier out of the way so he could be circling around her instead, Arthur kept his seat. Any performance he attempted upon the floor would shy in comparison to Gloier’s rhythmic moves. Too bad the weather was too frigid and too much snow blanketed the ground to allow a good jousting match or mace windup.

Arthur soon turned away from them and glared up at it, the object subject to his wrath, this one closest to where he was sitting with the knights who no longer were listening to their grumbling king. 

Instead, they were chatting with their lady guests, or grasping their hands to escort them to the lively dance floor where the minstrels played joyous tunes. Included in that was even Leon, the most serious and gallant knight, now hoofing it up with his lady to the minstrels’ fast moving song. 

It was all its fault, so include Merlin in that too. Such thought was the only thing that could bring a glimmer of a smile to Arthur’s face. 

_Fie that kissing bush._

It was equal parts of holly, ivy and mistletoe, twined together in a circular shape, all twelve of them hanging from a dining hall entrance, many of them so tiny and weaved together to make up for the lesser amounts of opening to the grand room. 

It was something his father never practiced, but that Arthur started after learning a variation of it from his Druid allies, some of them in attendance. It seemed like such a fun tradition to start up in Camelot, until now. 

Almost every night it seemed Gloier had given Gwen a kiss, sometimes even more than once, and Gwen herself had accepted it without complaint. Now, let it be said, it had only been on the cheek, and they were short pecks, yes, but that was little buffer, and the rules of tradition didn’t help.

After that first time, eleven more kisses were expected. So every night, and sometimes more than once, during the festivities of twelve, Arthur had to endure with Gloier kissing Guinevere. And it was irritating him terribly.

All dancing stopped now as the servants came in with the evening’s meal, Cornish Hen and Sauced Potatoes. Regardless of it being quite delicious, Arthur’s taste buds barely registered it, too focused upon the goings-on of table seven. Gloier was sitting very close to Gwen, touching her hand whenever he could get a chance to ‘mistakenly’ collide with it while reaching for his drink. 

Gwen looked up from the table a few times, noticing Arthur’s intense stare, and how it would be wiped away so rapidly every time he felt her eyes catch his. 

With him still being so stubborn, Gwen allowed Gloier’s collisions. She even let him reach for her hand after the meal was over, just about half of the rich food eaten by her, Gwen’s stomach not accustomed to so much to eat, and tied into hundreds of little knots at the moment. 

After feeling him lead her to one of those hanging bushes, she gasped in surprise as she felt his lips, not on her cheek, as had become the custom for all the other nine, but upon her lips, and not closed mouth, but parted to fully take her in. 

“Oh-

She pushed back at him, hearing a screech upon the stone floor. It was Arthur’s chair. Seated upon it, he pulled away from the table so suddenly, that he nearly knocked down a servant with his furious backward movement. Then abruptly standing, he ignored his knights as they tried to calm him down, shoving away Merlin’s appeasing hand, and stared right at her, expression rigid, eyes full of hurt.

“Oh my Lord.” Gwen’s fingers were tightened against Gloier’s chest as she kept him at a distance. This had gone far enough. 

Blindingly Arthur stalked out of the room.

Gloier’s voice interrupted Gwen’s troubled thoughts.

“I knew it.”

“What?” she asked, feeling Gloier’s hand wrap around her waist as he led her away.

..

Merlin started to get up from the twelfth table, but Gwaine held him down. 

“Arthur probably needs me.” Merlin insisted.

Gwaine laughed at that softly, but with only a tad bit of humor. “It’s not you he needs Merlin. Let them work through it.”

Merlin nodded his head, spotting Elyan too giving his agreement. “Gwaine’s right. She’s my sister, but I know better than to interfere. They’ve been going at it like this for a while now.”

“But they love each other. I don’t doubt that.” Percival earnestly put in.

No one could disagree. And no one got up from the table. It truly wasn’t their place. This was something the king and handmaiden had to work through themselves.

..

Gwen started pushing at Gloier’s hand so he quickly got her to his destination. It was halfway between the outside and the inner warmth. Once there she pushed again at his chest. “My Lord.”

Gloier smiled. He should have known. Gwen was a beautiful woman with such regality about her, despite her lower status within the kingdom. It was almost like she had been born as noble as the women who sat at their table. And clearly he knew now she was taken. 

No wonder the mumbling and near choking nights before. Now what confounded Gloier was the silly tradition. Ridiculous to think a king of royal heritage couldn’t openly be with a handmaiden. It was foolish to push away feelings with some inane rule like that.

“My Lord-

Gloier cut her off, touching Gwen’s cheek. “I’m quite taken by you Guinevere. You are such a wonderfully strong, and yet quiet woman. You contradict all assumption, constantly surprising. And yet one thing is clear. You have no feelings for me. The kiss minutes ago just proved that. You’re most certainly in love with another.”

Gwen’s frown came out. He knew? “Why did you kiss me then? So intimately where all would see?”

Gloier shrugged. “A last shard of hope I suppose that I was wrong. Because you are quite easy to fall for. A bit of a temptress without meaning to be one at all. If I thought I had a chance, I’d challenge the one you love. But it’s as clear as the shine of the snow upon the ground. No man could lure your heart away. Not even one who would never make you hide your feelings because of class divisions.”

Gwen sighed now, shaking her head. “It’s not as terrible as you make it sound. Arthur is a good king, so caring of the people, and so just. Look around you my Lord. See how the people gaze upon him so fondly. For in just a couple of years Arthur has made Camelot so much stronger, vital, and more magnificent than the man he inherited it from. And Arthur is a valiant, kind and noble man too. I’ve seen him go down upon his knee to touch the hand of a sick child, right there where everyone can witness. I’ve felt the warmth of his embrace and-

Gwen drifted off there, the thoughts much too intimate to share with Gloier, another good man, but with a missing piece for her heart. Never her chosen man.

In his expression was all the knowing and Gwen shook her head. “I can’t do this anymore. It started out a trifle fun and exciting. And yet-

No more charades. She had enough of them. And so had Gloier. Maybe even Arthur.

Under any other circumstance Gloier would be livid and storming away, or forcing his hand, but just one look into Gwen’s big eyes and he knew he couldn’t do that. Hurting her just seemed too awful a thing. “Well, I better be-

Gwen grasped onto Gloier’s hand, a smile of determination filling her face. She’d been released and now her purpose was vivid. Just one more thing. She stood upon tiptoe, lips touching Gloier’s cheek before she backed away, and smiled continually. “You will stay, yes? Within Camelot? I know my king would like it.”

He gave her a rueful look. “I’m not so sure about that.”

“Well I would.”

Gloier shook his head. “Why? For diplomatic reasons? If you’re worried that-

“No.” Gwen came in with quickly. “You are too astute a man to break alliance with such a formidable kingdom as Camelot. You know that it will bring you great fortune.”

Marvel shone in Gloier’s face as he whispered. “He should just marry you right now. I would if situations were reversed. You are a kingdom’s gold.”

Gwen blushed, but kept up her insistence. “I want you to stay because I think you will enjoy yourself. This time of year is special for its bringing of peace and joy. To travel back to Sorleois, oh it would be a dreadful trip now with the snows so heavy upon us. And to be alone for the continued Yuletide, I think not.”

“You have someone in mind then?” Gloier asked with a wry smile.

Gwen gave a quick nod. “Yes. Now-

Hmmm, could be promising. It was clear though that Gwen’s focus was departing him fast. Gloier nudged her away. “Go on then.”

“My Lord?”

“I know where your heart is. Don’t keep him waiting. Fool ran out so furiously. With these winter winds no doubt he’s half frozen by now. You’ll have to search-

He stopped. There was something in Gwen’s face. “You already know where he went.”

Gwen nodded. It wasn’t far, but Gloier was certainly right that the frigid temperatures were too much. Arthur really was a fool to rush out. Nevertheless, a fool that she loved and would brave the icy cold to find. 

Gloier squeezed her hand, and then letting go, nudged her once more. “Go, Guinevere.”

It was a quiet order that she didn’t need to hear twice. Wrapping her cloak tighter around her body, Gwen headed with purpose out into the snow that set off a dark glow underneath the winter evening skies. 

…

In last bit of daylight hours it was one of the most beautiful spots during the Yuletide. While the bridge’s stone hand-holds became lined with hanging icicles that shined when the sun made its appearance, the usually flowing waters below became a crystal wonderland, the river a blue icy sheet of glass that dazzled the eye with so much variation of color. 

At night though it all felt like a monster getting ready to swallow him up. Arthur shivered violently, wondering where his sense had gone. Sure this place held special feeling and so much memory that usually warmed his heart, but now with what he had witnessed, it just made every icy breath get stuck in his throat. 

Nevertheless, he stood still, fighting off the cold with no more than his hands, looking down upon the icy sheet below, which in evening hours lost its dazzle.

…

It took moments to get there, a few stumbles in the deep dark snow here and there, but Gwen managed to keep her footing, and came to the bridge, seeing him standing there, just like she knew he would be. 

You see, years back, when keeping their relationship secret was a necessity, Arthur brought her here for the first time, to the bridge that crossed the river of Camelot that flowed out to the ocean, where now their mighty ships traveled through to bring on greater alliances.

Then, those ships were just imagination of a young man who had yet to be king, and had unexplainably fallen in love with a servant. It was Christmas that afternoon actually, and while festivity ensued inside the warm castle, Arthur snuck upon Gwen in the hot kitchens. 

That peculiar moment no one there to spy upon them, something set up by Merlin she’d later find out, Arthur excitedly pulled her to the back door. The snow was falling heavily and so there was little chance they’d be followed, but the sun had still managed to eclipse one bit of cloud cover. Its white gold blaze sat there in the sky stubbornly, sneering at the cloud like a pompous king would. 

Arthur loved that, something he shared with Gwen as finally he got her to his destination. 

_“Wait until you see this.” He told her excitedly, and then upon stepping to the center portion of the bridge, Gwen finally understood what he meant, and the reason for his rush._

_“Oh Arthur, it’s so beautiful.”_

_Color upon vibrant color played down on the ice, an extravagant gift from the sun that in moments’ time would fade because the grandest star of the skies wouldn’t be in just the right place, and thus the clouds would take over._

_But for now…for this precious moment…_

_“Merry Christmas Guinevere. I love you.”_

He whispered to her then, wrapping his arms around Gwen from behind, getting her to sigh and settle deep against his chest. 

And she loved him as well, for Arthur had so many riches in his hand, he had gold practically extended from his fingers, and yet his present to her this year was no more, no less than a gift of nature. Of beauty. 

Of…

Well it did fade, just like it was meant to. Winter was the season that no matter its stubbornness cloud cover always got dominance of the sun. Moments and the dancing colorful lights were gone, but still Gwen didn’t want to leave the warmth that held her so intimately outside. Still, the bridge became one of the most special places ever to her heart.

And of course to his too. 

That was how she knew right away, almost as soon as he fled out the door, that this was where he would come. 

“Arthur.”

The sun was deeply sleeping now and the clouds had as their companion icy winds that pulled at both their clothes. Frightfully Arthur had rushed out too soon to even get a cloak upon his red tunic, of thick material, but still not anywhere near enough for winter’s chill. 

Sighing at his foolishness, witnessing his violent trembles with a frown to her brow, Gwen rushed upon the snowy bridge and wrapped her cloak, and herself, around him.

“What are you doing here?” Arthur asked rigidly, trying to disguise the tremors in his voice, looking down upon the familiar lavender cloak that was half covering his arms now.

“Keeping you from turning to ice like the river below.” Gwen grasped him even tighter from behind, holding as close to the king as she could. 

“Are you mad, coming out to this without even a cloak to keep you from chilling to the bone!”

Arthur shook his head stubbornly, saying nothing, standing as rigid as he could to pretend he wasn’t already fiercely freezing. It was a terrible display. 

Gwen squeezed him to her, intent upon keeping him from frostbite beginnings. “Oh Arthur…you silly man you.”

His bottom lip pouted out as his mind told him to get away from her warm hold. Too bad his body deliriously coveted it. “Yes, you enjoy my unhappiness, don’t you?”

Gwen didn’t answer right away, rubbing with her fingers all over the cloak to keep Arthur’s body from chilling more. Then she leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Now you finally see.”

Arthur turned to her, his body shivering, but his expression glaring hotly. “See? You know what I see Guinevere? I see that king who I have to be nice to because he’s an ally of Camelot, dining with you, dancing with you, and kissing you every chance he gets!”

Gwen countered softly. “Well it is the rule of twelve, Arthur.”

“Fie the rule of twelve!” Arthur yelled out. “You think it’s easy to watch you-

She gave him a knowing expression that got Arthur to stop, the moon’s light illuminating her face enough to show him the truth finally. 

“No. I _know_ it’s not.” She told him with a touch to his cheek. “Because it’s exactly the same as I feel every time you are with another.”

He stared at her, expression incredulous. “Are you telling me that you did this on purpose-

Gwen stopped him, feeling the fierce beat of Arthur’s heart against her fingers as she touched his red tunic. “Nothing was ever planned at all. And yet how did you expect me to react? You nearly thrust him at me.”

Arthur hotly countered. “I asked if it was what you wanted and you said yes, Guinevere! You said you’d love to share a table with him!”

Gwen shook her head, disagreeing. “I never said it in those words. And once again, I ask you, what did you expect me to do? For years I’ve served during the dinners and for once I’m told I can sit in upon them. With a man who is charming and-

“Damn!” Arthur gritted out of his teeth, turning away. “Damn him for coming to my kingdom-

“Arthur.” Gwen stated patiently, reaching for his arm and turning him around. “And wise.” Gwen stated now. “For he knew all the while, even tonight when his lips surprisingly touched mine, that I could not love him. Because my heart is reserved for one man alone. Camelot’s king. 

No matter how _stubborn_ he may be at times.”

“Humph…” Arthur grunted, getting Gwen to laugh softly, a smile lighting upon her face and filling her cheeks with rose that was more than just winter’s cold. 

“Arthur-

“So it’s like I said, it was on purpose? Some grand master plan to get back at me for the Princess Verona? Was that it Guinevere?”

She shook her head with a frown, clasping Arthur’s cheeks with the little warmth left in her hands. 

_Oh it was so bitterly cold out here now!_

“Do you honestly think I could devise something so devious? I told you already. Yes, a part of me wanted for you to see how it is. But it wasn’t until tonight when Gloier kissed me upon the lips that it shocked me. I never meant to tread upon his feelings, nor yours. I only wanted some reprieve, and to get to sit with the other nobles, to be served, I admit Arthur, I’m human as much, and it was something I did enjoy.”

“Wonderful-

He remarked dryly, but Gwen was not finished.

“For a bit. With half heart. For you see Arthur it was your table I really wanted to sit at. It was your kiss I wanted to feel upon my lips. 

Arthur, my love…”

Admissions of devotion still didn’t help. Arthur was hurt nonetheless and still not fully seeing. “You did it half on purpose then.”

Gwen held fast still, clasping his cheeks even more now, stopping his rant. “Oh Arthur. You’ve yet to understand. I did exactly what you did. Pretended, until it was no longer bearable. I hated seeing you and Princess Verona and so many others I’ve had to watch you with. I’ve tried Arthur to pretend it didn’t matter, but the heart can only feign such things so much. I never intended for it to go beyond pecks upon the cheek. 

Now too, put in that same place, I must admit, I see how tricky it was for you to keep things from going too far. Pretending is always a losing game and I want no more of it, as surely you don’t either. 

Princess Verona did not deserve the fallacy you played with her even with how awful she was. And I should not have done with I did with Gloier. Thankfully I was able to speak to him to keep him from upset. I think he even will stay for the rest of the celebrations. I hope so. This weather is ill condition to make long travel in. 

Suffice it to say, I have learned from this experience. As I think you have too. Yes?”

Peace. It was what he loved most about her, beyond the way her touch and her mouth upon his could make him feel lazy and joyful all the same, full of spirit and calm in one bounce of tranquil energy. That and her wonderful wisdom which flooded him now, made him realize something starkly. 

“I’ve been a fool.”

Gwen smiled. “We’ve both acted foolishly. I only wanted you to get it.”

Arthur slowly nodded his head. “Oh I get it now.” 

He moved forward, grasping Gwen’s waist tightly and bringing her firmly up against him. “I get that I never want to see you with another man.” He whispered huskily, before pressing his lips possessively over hers, and feeling her return the same possessiveness. 

Murmurs of emotion found their way in between. Arthur touched her hand, whispering, “How did you know I would be here?”

Gwen clasped his cheek. “Where else would you be? But at the most precious gift you ever gave me?”

He smiled now, letting out a relieved sigh. “As of yet that is.” 

His grin was growing more solidly, sneaky even. 

“What are you up to Arthur?” She asked, brow lifting.

Arthur shook his head with all kinds of ideas sparking in his mind and heart. But still, not even that could thwart it off entirely. 

Even another long deep kiss of her mouth couldn’t keep him from it.

“Oh.” He shivered hard, clutching the woman he loved and holding her so close it could barely be nearer if they were joined. “This place has special meaning, but now, _ooohhh_ … think I’m turning into one of those snowmen Merlin and the Druids like building.”

Gwen laughed at that, grasping Arthur’s side and pressing the lavender cloak more tightly around both of them. “True assessment. Enough of this, yes? Let’s hurry back inside!”

And so that was what they did, scurrying away from the bridge, stumbling in the snow with rich roars of laughter, and then rushing to the first hearth to be found, once indoors. 

Neither letting the other go. 

Love, ever steadfast.

***


	3. Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  Camelot is full of the Yuletide spirit and Days of Twelve, but one new addition to all the tradition causes Arthur to turn green with jealousy, the kissing bush.  Read to find out why and rest assured, happy ending promised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  This was a fic that just kept growing, especially after seeing the wonderful artwork created for it.  So it will be posted in three parts.  It is cannon until Morgana’s first takeover of Camelot.  From there it goes AU.  

# The Kissing Bush

Written for  **[rubberglue](http://rubberglue.tumblr.com/)**  who made a beautifully generous donation over at  **[Fandomaid](http://fandomaid.livejournal.com/)**  to help the Philippines.  She requested a jealous Arthur as one of the prompts she let me choose from. :) 

**Characters:**  Arthur, Gwen, Merlin, Elyan, Percival, Gwaine, Leon (no Gaius, sorry, just didn’t feel like including him) and an important OC

**Artwork:**  the wonderfully talented and generous  **[bound—to—you](http://bound--to--you.tumblr.com/)**

Hope you enjoy and happy holiday season to everyone.  Let’s keep spreading that Arwen love. :)

***

It was one day later that after tending to work around the castle, Gwen found the front door to her home ajar and something peculiar hanging from the top of the entranceway.  Carefully going inside, she breathed mild relief at the familiar black boots and deep brown winter coat. 

With a cheeky grin he pointed upward.  “Kissing Bush.”

Untying and pulling away her cloak, revealing a soft rose colored dress, Gwen lifted her eyes with a wry look.  “I see that.  I believe the rule is that it be hung over the dining hall entrances.  Not people’s houses.”

Arthur gave an indulgent shrug.  “I happen to be the king.  That allows me certain liberties.”

“Such as?”  Gwen asked with a touch of teasing.

“This.”  Arthur whispered, stepping forward and grasping hold of her waist.  A pull backward and he had her directly underneath the bushy wreath after giving a kick to the door to shut it tight.  Advance of his lips and they were kissing.

“Mmmm…”  Gwen sighed, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, before lowering her hands to let her fingers lazily fondle the opening of his tunic.  Not missing a step, she told him importantly, “Tradition requires eleven more times.  And yet my Lord we have no more than four days, barely that even.”

“Good point.”  Arthur’s finger touched her bottom lip, getting Gwen to kiss it.  He smiled with victory.  “Two already.  I have little doubt we’ll have issue with producing the required amount.”

“Ten more my Lord.”  Gwen whispered up to him, teasing with her lips against Arthur’s cheek, a whisper and no more.  “Sure we’re up to the task?”

His thumb pushed against her teasing mouth, his hands grasping her arms to pull her back.  “Together my Lady, we’re up to any task.”

“Mmmm”  Gwen murmured and lifted her hands, kissing Arthur again, so fully this time he half stumbled away from it with eyes still closed. 

“That’s three.”  She told him, getting Arthur to slowly nod and then finally open his eyes. 

“Yes.”

Gwen remembered now though.  “I need to get ready.  No doubt I will be expected within the banquet hall soon.”

He nodded with a bit of covertness in his expression.  “No doubt you will.  I should leave then.” 

He reached up, touching her hair, those tempting curls now too solidly pulled back into a bun.  “But one thing.”

“What’s that?”  She asked.

He fingered her cheek, lingered on her neck.  “Wear your hair down.  I love it that way.”

Gwen shook her head fervently.  “To serve tables?  I can’t do that!  Too hard-

His finger pushed upon her lip, stopping all the protest.  “You wouldn’t want to disappoint your king?  Would you my Lady?”

Oh, okay.  There it was again.  That secret little grin playing upon his lips for just seconds before he attempted cover.  So poor at it though.  Most definitely her king who plotted battle so well was plotting something of a more intimate nature.

Gwen grasped Arthur by his tunic. 

“What are you up to?” 

Arthur glanced to the kissing bush, before making a straight face.  “Nothing.  Nothing at all.  See you later Guinevere.  Remember…”  He gestured to the curls.  “Down.”

And with that he departed, closing the door tight.

And as she fully entered her home, Gwen let out a gasp of shock.

“Oh Arthur!  You silly wonderful man.”

…

When she first entered the banquet hall more than an hour later, the king stood up with an expression that couldn’t have been more enchanted if Merlin had put a spell upon him.  Just about everyone stood with notice, following their king’s lead, including Gloier, and those sitting at Arthur’s table, now back to its regular position, which greatly relieved poor table six.  Around Arthur, stood his brotherhood of closest knights with their noble ladies, and Merlin too of course.

Merlin’s gape soon flowed into an approving smile.  About time Arthur started getting things right.  Elyan’s look was one of pride, as every knight actually, Gwaine especially, grinned with approval.

Not letting her step in any further, the king made his way through the circle of tables, coming to the door to where she stood so beautifully.  He brought out his hands, locking onto her fingers once his skin felt their sweet touch.  Barely a step though and Arthur was pulling her back.

Gwen looked up to him questioningly and Arthur gestured even further upward.

Oh.  The Kissing Bush.

He leant in for a suitable public kiss, but a romantic one nonetheless.

To be certain there were gasps let out around the banquet hall, but mostly the reaction was happy sighs.  And oh the servants, other than the knights and Merlin, they were probably the most joyous of all, stopping all their work to view it.  This was _Gwen_ , always hardworking Gwen, now so fancily made up, kissing Camelot’s king.  Like a Yuletide gift. 

“Better.”  Arthur smiled contentedly, feeling Gwen’s hand solidly in his as he led her to the twelfth table. 

“This is beautiful, Arthur.” Gwen gestured downward to her attire.

“No.”  He shook his head solidly.  “It’s you who are beautiful in it.” 

He was referring to her dress, a work of red and gold, satin and lace brocade, with, if you looked closely enough, twelve beaded sections upon the top part, twelve beaded loops upon the bottom trim, and twelve beads woven into the belt. 

“You are the yuletide season entirely.”  Arthur whispered.  And she was, with her dark ringlets of hair that he found himself mesmerized by enough times, partly done up, with twelve curling pieces hung down to frame her pretty face.  “I love this.  Even though you partially neglected my command.”

Gwen’s eyebrows lifted, her voice firm and yet with a hint of tease.  “King does not make you ruler of my hair.  I have control of that.”

Arthur’s eyes lifted with a heeding roll.  No doubt she did.  As too Guinevere had control of many more things.  Never a kneeling damsel, she was always surprising him with her balance of peace and strength. 

Reaching forward now, he touched them, the wonderfully numbered hanging curls.  “Twelve.  Maybe it’s better than what I first wanted.  Like having you there will make the table so much better.  Come.”

The minstrels playing a softly romantic song now, Arthur and Gwen walked into the center of the circle before coming to the twelfth table, Arthur pulling out her chair for Gwen to sit.

…

It was many hours later, after dining upon another delicious meal, Gwen’s stomach this night not in knots, but still so unaccustomed to so much rich food, she had only eaten bits before getting up.  So much more relaxed now, Arthur was conversing with his guests, going from table to table, but Gwen couldn’t help notice the sullen expression of one table guest.  She meant what she had said to Arthur.  Tricking and pretending wasn’t something she was comfortable with, and never wanted to be part of again.  Remedy was her true focus now.

“My Lord.  A word?”

Gloier followed her to the quietest part of the banquet hall, furthest away from the minstrels and lively dance. 

He gestured to her.  “You look beautiful.  But I noticed that far before you started dressing in clothing only a king could produce.”

There was a touch of bitterness in his voice, even though she could tell he was trying to valiantly hide it. 

Gwen nodded.  “I know you did.  And I thank you for that.  And am so grateful you stayed.”  She reached for his hand. 

Gloier let her, but disengaged quickly. 

“Won’t look right.”  He told her curtly.

Gwen nodded again, handing him something now.  “I had planned to give it to you during the dinner, but since I wasn’t serving this night…well time made me forget.  Here, though…I told you I had someone better intended.”

Gloier looked at Gwen ruefully.  “In this paper?”

Gwen laughed softly at that.  “No.  But the paper holds a name.”

He unfolded it, giving Gwen a queer look after reading.  “Is this some kind of joke?”

Gwen shook her head.  “Not at all.”

“She’s hardly my type.  Nothing like you.”

“I disagree.  And why should she be like me?”

Gloier sighed and Gwen went on.

“I asked Arthur personally to put her at your table when the seatings had to be rearranged and added to because I changed place.  I did this because of you my Lord.  Getting to sit at your table I started to get to know more of the nobles.  Having the chance to talk to her I learned what a lovely woman she is.”

Shaking his head, Gloier touched Gwen’s hand quickly before removing his fingers.  “What made me attracted to you was that you are nothing like these high fluted nobles.  You carry yourself apart and-

Gwen cut through his argument, her tone sensitive, and yet sharp enough to give reproach.  “But my Lord.  You speak now of what you accused others of, Arthur included I’m guessing.  You said how you noticed me even when I was wearing the clothing of a servant.  Yet you look at the attire of a noble woman and you dismiss her so quickly.  Is that not as dismissive?  She told me herself of her interest in you, but she kept it short because she knew of your interest in me.  You have many beliefs in common.  I think that is something you will see if you just speak to her.  I know you said I was like a temptress, but beyond, what was I to you?  As much as we learned of each other, it couldn’t have been enough for that most private part of me is reserved for just one man.  Always has been.”

To that, Gloier gave a wry smile.  “Why do you have to be so wise Guinevere?  So patient and calm.  It makes it much too hard to get angry with you.”

Gwen smiled now too, stepping forward without hesitation to grasp Gloier’s hands.  “Speak to her.  I am sure you won’t be disappointed.”

Then peering back inside, noticing Arthur conversing joyfully with some of the guests in attendance, before his eyes lit upon her, all that blue full of happy shine, Gwen moved apart from Gloier.  No haste in her step.  Just resolve to be with her king. 

When Gwen returned to Arthur, she felt his hand come to her shoulder as he kept her close, while continuing his conversations.

…

Hours later the minstrels played their last notes for the evening as Arthur escorted Guinevere home.  Upon her doorstep he grasped hold of waist and pulled her in close.  Gwen touched hand to his chest intimately as she felt her king’s kiss.  He tasted like the sweet fruity pudding given for dessert. 

As she caressed his cheek, Arthur asked, eyes fixed upon the woman he loved,

“What was that with Gloier?”

Gwen stroked the material of his tunic, feeling the hardness of his chest underneath.  “Reason why I asked you to alter the seating at his table.”

Running his hand up and down Gwen’s waist, giving it an affectionate squeeze, Arthur nodded his head.  “So that’s why you wanted me to do that?  Being a bit of a matchmaker are you Guinevere?”

A sly smile touched her face.  “No one should be alone for Yuletide.”

“Agreed.”  Arthur whispered lazily, bringing his mouth to Gwen’s neck, kissing, tasting, and adoring. 

“Mmm…”  Gwen murmured passionately, and then let out a gasp as she felt her hair completely released from its binds.  “Arthur!”

He laughed at that selfishly, running his hands through her coils of naturally curled hair as a mischievous smile played upon his lips.  “How I love you like this.  Wild, beautiful Guinevere.”

Hands grasping hers, Arthur kept backing them up until they were at her bed, tumbling onto it.

“Arthur.”  Gwen laughed, but then lifted her arms to bring his face down to her lips.  “Oh Arthur.”

His nose nuzzled into her hair and against her skin as he told her very authoritatively, “Such a frigid winter as we have now, there is always a sure remedy.”

Biting her lip, and sensuously running her tongue over it, feeling his finger coming down, and stopping her momentarily, Gwen asked, “And that is?”

“To have one’s body close to another’s.  In fact the more revealed skin the better.”  He whispered, bringing his hand underneath the top part of her dress, stroking the naked skin there.  “Much _much_ better than clothing.”

“Oh… And you have experience with this?”  Gwen asked coyly, running her hand up underneath Arthur’s red tunic, fingering his skin too.

“Some.”  He answered, possessively pressing his mouth to hers again, feeling as their tongues brushed and how it made his body shiver with excitement.  “I think you are the ideal candidate to help me perfect it.”

Gwen liked that answer.  There was no mystery in that before her Arthur had been with other women, but certain very private parts of himself he had kept just for _love._  

His hands grazed upon her dress at the shoulders, getting it pulled down some as he whispered against her curls of hair.  “I promise, I’ll stop before it goes too far.”

To that Gwen lifted her hands, fingers stroking finely stubbled skin of his cheeks as her lips moved up to kiss him, her whisper sensuous and trusting.  Seemed they’d have no difficulty at all fulfilling the rules of that tantalizing little kissing bush.

“Noted.  Now let’s keep working on that perfection.”

***

The next night Gwen gained Arthur’s hand under the table and whispered in his ear, recalling how successfully they had shared body heat.  It brought a warm glow to her now as she relived it for a few precious seconds, and yet true to word, Arthur had stopped it before things got too far. 

Actually she had to help him with that, both of them breathing quite heavily by that point, and much barer. 

Nevertheless, they had gotten up from the bed, fixed the bits of loose clothing, and kissed a very late goodnight at her door, adding to their _bush_ count.

He too was smiling now with indulgent reverie, until he heard her words more clearly. 

“What was that you said?”

Gwen smiled knowingly.  Arthur told her the night before he had enjoyed watching so much how she danced, but that he really was more a battle king than a dancer.  Probably, he wouldn’t be able to lead her out like that and circle around…etc…

“I said, my love, let us take the floor.”

“I believe it is the man that is supposed to ask that.”  He squeezed her hand under the table, admiring how once again Gwen’s beautiful dark curls were hanging in lengths of twelve.  It accented her lavender dress she wore that she had created with her own hands beautifully. 

“Well, and you see my dilemma then, my Lord, yes?  Because the man who holds my hand now has yet to ask me.”

“Guinevere-

He started to say, getting her to smile further and press a kiss to Arthur’s lips, audacious and unaccustomed for her, but Gwen was feeling a wild release building in herself the more time they spent together in public view.  And it was so welcome, to finally hold his hand and touch his cheek without feeling that anybody would object, that she should hide her intimate thoughts.  It was the sweetest release. 

“Come, Arthur.   _Dance with me_.”

Oh her lure was too tempting, her hand pulling him until Arthur was up and out of his seat.  Letting out a sigh, he followed her to the middle of the floor, observing how so many moved aside. 

Well of course.  The king was joining them and so it was assumed he would want center stage.  Arthur wasn’t sure though, circling around Gwen for his first awkward steps and clumsily landing upon her toes.

“Oh.”

“I told you.”  He hissed out now, pulling her hand, but Gwen held tight to keep him upon the floor as the music changed from a lively number to a slower moving one that made her hips give a gentle sway.  Arthur focused upon it, whispering sharply.  “Guinevere.”

She laughed softly, hands brushing his sides, before she spun away, finding Arthur’s hand and lifting it with hers.  Noticing him still hesitating, she whispered, “Just act like you’ve done in the past when you’ve had too much to drink.  Why do you think I wanted so many toasts of wine this evening?  To loosen you more.  But seems I need to loosen you even beyond that.”

Arthur shook his head, even though it was true.  Enough drink in him and the story was that he danced around, but Guinevere wasn’t getting it, because even then he wasn’t as steady and rhythmic as Gloier had been. 

On the contrary, when he held onto Guinevere’s hand it sometimes tangled, or was too stiff, and she had to fix it back into proper place.  She was so beautiful in her movement.  He was…well almost as clumsy as Merlin could be, sorcerer or not.

_Almost…that is._

And yet the way the music seemed to find her body, or maybe she it, how it was like poetry, as silly as that sounded, finding its way to the floor, Guinevere was so good at dance.  So hypnotic.  Focusing squarely upon her and forgetting that there were others around them, feeling her hand brush his side every so often to privately encourage, Arthur found himself finally loosening up and enjoying himself.  And as he did his dancing improved. 

Greatly. 

Oh sure, there were a few missteps here and there, a couple of more times of sore toes, but Gwen could stand that to ultimately be sharing the floor with him.

…

As the night advanced, Gwen smiled at the sight of Gloier and the lady she asked to be sat at his table.  They were dancing too, looking like they were enjoying themselves quite much.  She knew they would, but _hmmm_ …the king was nowhere in sight.  It surprised her now as Merlin came to her side, saying he’d escort her home.

“What happened to Arthur?”  Gwen asked.

Merlin sighed.  “Matters of state.  Said he’d come by later and tell you about it.”

…

Later turned out to be nearly the next day, the hour so advanced Gwen had started to fall asleep in her bed when she heard the knock.

Wrapping her lavender cloak around herself as she was just wearing her night dress, Gwen moved to the door, asking,  “Who is it?”

“It’s Me Guin.”

Oh.  Arthur called her that only when they were alone, sometimes being a romantic moment, at other times meaning something important.  By the heavy tone of his voice she was guessing the latter signaled it tonight. 

Opening the door, his sober face verified her feelings.  Gwen shut it and watched as he stood there with his back turned, looking pensive, his crown even awfully askew.

“Oh, Arthur.”  She started to push it back more evenly, but he tangled with her hands, pulling it off. 

“Blasted thing.  You know I never like wearing it.”

She smiled at that mildly, before sitting down with him at the bench to her table.  Taking Arthur’s hands, she asked him, worried by his heavy expression, “What is it?”

He lowered his head, looking miserable, fingers pulling messily at his hair until Gwen caught them and held fast.  “Arthur.”

Lifting his face, Arthur told her finally.  “Seems you were right.  My rudeness didn’t pay off.  The King of Narsinga has broken our treaty.  Word of it came by raven earlier.”

“Oh Arthur, what happened?”  Gwen asked, touching his cheek gently and stroking with her fingers.

“I don’t know.”  Arthur muttered.  “I guess Verona found out the truth, that I don’t love her.  Or…well…I made no effort to see her before she left.  Once the treaty was reached, I let that be that.  Stupidly.”

Gwen shook her head, disagreeing fervently.  “Not stupidly.  With honesty.”

“Oh.”  Arthur got up from the table.  “What does it matter Guinevere?  The peace between our kingdoms is over.  He says he will make no moves in the winter months, but beyond that…Camelot might have to prepare for battle.”

Gwen stood up from the bench to come behind Arthur, her hand wrapping around his waist as she asked passionately, “Would you go to war with him for something like this?”

“I may not have a choice Guinevere.”  Arthur answered, pushing his hands up through his hair again, his head shaking.  “I have a kingdom to think about.  Without this treaty, not only is Camelot in danger from the Saxons, but also Narsinga.  I’ve failed my people.”

“No.”  Gwen reached around now, bringing Arthur into her arms, feeling his head fall upon her shoulder as he leaned against her.  “Oh my Love.”  Always Arthur would be a strong king, confident on the battlefield, and much more intelligent than first sight seemed to infer, but his greatest strength was also his greatest weakness, for Arthur more than any other ruler she had ever witnessed, _loved_ the people without reservation.  To bring any danger to them was his biggest dread.

She sighed, holding him close, but then recounting a bit of information given to her during the Days of Twelve, Gwen pulled back.

“What?”  He asked, blue eyes weary.

“It’s something Gloier said.  Well, more than something.  Arthur, did you not think about it?”

“What are you talking about Guinevere?”  He asked impatiently, so delaying things no further, Gwen gave answer.

“Narsinga neighbors Sorleois.  Gloier knows its king.  They are allies.  Their kingdoms have been for many years.  So don’t you see…”

Arthur’s eyes widened with the first bit of hope.  “Do you think he’d listen?  Do you think he’d be able to help?”

Gwen smiled encouragingly, holding onto Arthur’s hand.  “I think we’d be fools not to ask.”

He made his way to the door, not letting go of Gwen’s hand.  Her questioning expression made him stop though.  

“Guin?”

“You want me to go with you?”

She sounded so surprised that Arthur caught her by the waist.  “Of course I do.  You’re the one who suggested it.  Like the wise woman you are.”  Bending down, gently kissing her upon the lips he whispered, “Like only a queen could.”

Gwen shook her head.  “I’m not a queen.”

Arthur’s response was mysteriously enticing.  “Not yet anyway.  Now come on.”

“Wait.”  She blushed now, gesturing to her wear, or lack of it that is.  “I should change.”

“Oh.”  He smiled, reaching for the ties of Gwen’s cloak and loosening them so that it fell away, revealing the fragile beauty of her nightdress and the curves of her woman’s body.  “So beautiful.”  He whispered, leaning in and kissing her slowly, grasping at Gwen’s curls when he was done, and finally standing back, agreeing. 

“Yeah.  You should.” 

His fingers grazed her cheek and neck. 

“Until we’re alone.”

Oh. 

Gwen had to push away from him then to avoid the urge to just pull him into her arms.  Matters of state took priority now, but oh how hard it was to resist.

Just as difficult as it was for him. 

Love was turning into such a passionate pool of feeling that could easily melt away the cold weather outside.

…

And it even politically united them as now together they found Gloier.  Gwen felt terrible at first.  After a lovely night with the noble lady she had seated at his table, he had returned to his room to fall to sleep. 

One hour after his head hit the pillow there they were waking him up and scaring Gloier into action.  Arthur had to hold him off from attacking with his sword.

“Oh Arthur.  It’s late.  And Guinevere?”

He was so shocked, but after hearing what had occurred between Arthur and the King of Narsinga, Gloier was nodding his head, standing there now barefoot, but fully clothed otherwise.  “Verona is his pride and joy.  Insulting her, you created quite a mess I’m sure.”

“I didn’t mean to.”  Arthur told Gloier now humbly.  “I just needed that treaty so badly for Camelot’s welfare.  The Saxons are becoming a greater threat every passing of Yuletide.”

“Agreed.”  Gloier answered.  “But Arthur, Sorleois has the same proximity to them.  They are using our borderlands just as much and so a guarantee of Camelot’s assistance as we do our part in kind could make the treaty not so needed. 

Thus still, I may even be able to get him to change his mind.  The King of Narsinga is a highly emotional man.  No doubt you noticed.  Give it some time.  I’ll do my best if in return Camelot offers defense.  Your armies are much bigger than ours.”

Gwen grinned at Arthur now and Gloier, stating, “I knew you’d help us.  For you are a noble man my Lord.”

Gloier smiled now too, adding in though, “Not for free.  I’m not _that_ nice of a man.”

Arthur laughed heartedly at that.  “Then you’re a wise one too.  For no kingdom should be so liberal.”  He offered his hand.  “Camelot thanks you and I thank you with a depth of gratitude.  You have my word on it too.  Camelot’s defense in return for your cooperation in keeping the Saxons at bay, and at least attempting reconciliation to Camelot’s benefit with Narsinga.  I still would like to have them as allies.”

“Then you’re a smart man.”  Gloier commented.  “I’ll do my best.  We can write it all before my departure and put our names to signature.  Your word is respected, but on paper-

Arthur didn’t require the man to finish.  “Agreed.  We will take care of all of it soon.  Guinevere…”  Arthur gestured to Gwen, lightly wrapping his arm around her… “Tells me she encouraged you to stay and I’m glad she did.”

“I’m sure you are.”  Gloier commented knowingly. 

Gwen left the room then and Arthur was set to go too, when Gloier caught his arm.  “You are a lucky man Arthur.  I hope you don’t neglect your fortune again.”

It was half warning?  Advice?  Arthur wasn’t sure, but not really bothered either. 

Gloier said it with no outward menace and Arthur was set on never taking love for granted again anyhow.  The almost threat of losing Guinevere was enough, no matter how serious it had been.

“I know I am.  And no worries.  I am not a perfect man.  But one thing is certain.  I never make the same mistake twice.”

Gloier smiled.  “Hope for yours and Gwen’s benefit that’s true.  Very well then.”

Arthur departed after that bit of unsolicited advice.  Gloier was a forward man and so he’d leave it to that.  Actually he was feeling so much more assured and for much of that he had the solid wisdom of Guinevere to thank, which he did as he walked her home.

Then after returning to the castle he rushed through the downstairs area, waking up his snoring court sorcerer. 

Nevertheless, Arthur just ignored Merlin’s weary rants and told him what the plan was.  This time it had nothing to do with kingdom affairs, but something of personal nature.

***

It was January 5th, a decidedly cold day, nevertheless with enough sunshine to give fragile pretty light to the sky, the snow its softest that it had been in days.  With the issue of Narsinga taken care of for the moment, Arthur arrived at Gwen’s house early morning, mood light and focused upon fun.  He delivered a soft kiss to hand and lips afterward, times eight and nine.  It was the last day of twelve and so they would have to kiss three more times underneath the kissing bush, but neither was worried.  It was little labor. 

They ran out into the snow excitedly, Arthur telling her he had a surprise. 

Gwen gasped with delight at the horse drawn sleigh.  A somewhat grumbling Merlin, Arthur’s early morning wakeup call had left him with little sleep and no time to catch some breakfast, was at its head. 

Still, the sight of Gwen in pretty burgundy, cloak and dress alike, roused him to action.

“Ah…”  Merlin declared, giving a dashing bow which Arthur rolled his eyes at. 

The man looked silly to him wearing a deep red coat and bright floppy matching hat.  It caused Arthur to mutter,  “And you didn’t want to wear the pointy one.  You look ridiculous.”

Merlin made a face which Gwen laughed at, before she stepped up with Merlin’s assistance.

Of course Arthur found objection.  “Eh.  Move away Merlin.  I’ll help her.”

“Clotpole.”

“Idiot.”

“Maybe I should turn you into a slimy frog!”

Merlin’s hands were out in threat as Arthur disengaged his sword.  “Try it and you’ll be-

“Okay!  Enough.”  Gwen told them both sharply, giving such a look of firmness that both men shuffled their feet in the snow awkwardly. 

“Sorry Gwen.”

“Apologies Guinevere.”

Each took one of Gwen’s hands, getting her to shake her head with amusement, especially as they muttered under their breaths meant only for each to hear…

_“Asshat.”_

_“Cabbagehead.”_

_“That’s mine!  Find your own!”_

_“Fine, Conehead.”_

“Boys.”

They both shut up as Arthur sat back in the sleigh with Gwen, wrapping his arm around her shoulder;  Merlin was at the front again, signaling for the horses to be off. 

Fancifully he told Gwen how he had created the sleigh with magic.  It was run down at first, but a bit of enchantment and it turned into the wonderful mode of transportation it was now.  Gwen clapped her hands with delight as Arthur glared at the back of Merlin’s floppy head- _er_ -hat.

When they got to the spot intended, Merlin was far past weary, and grinning. 

Arthur helped Gwen get down from the sleigh before turning around.  “Alright, Merlin.  You can leave now.  Just remember to return some hours before dark.”

Merlin gaped at him with shock.  “I’m hungry.”

Arthur had a basket of food he made Merlin conjure up earlier.  It was steaming hot with Merlin’s magic.

“Conjure up your own basket then.”

Merlin stuck his tongue out.  Arthur just laughed.

But Gwen soon had hold of the basket.  Arthur let out protest, but he was too late.  She was already taking it out.  “Here Merlin, some sweet breads for you.  Nice and hot.  Thank you so much for doing all this for us.  We will see you in a bit, yes?”

Merlin smiled with a touch of a blush as Gwen kissed his cheek.  “Of course Gwen.”

Then he steered the horses and sleigh away.

Gwen shook her head at Arthur, but good-naturedly looped her arm through his.  “Now what are you up to?”

He grinned, pressing his head against hers.  “Lots.”

…

Their sweet and hot breakfast was delicious.  Later they took a walk through the snow, admiring the frosted trees that stood high above them, and the banks of pure white from the freshly fallen ice crystals. 

It was during their stroll, that Gwen’s hand came out of her red cloak.  She pushed back the burgundy material, rounding the iciness into her hand.  And then as Arthur walked ahead, she aimed and fired.

Perfect shot.  Right at his-

Arthur howled with shock and felt for his rear end, touching icy wetness. 

Then he turned around, spotting the criminal evidence, the remains of a round snowball crashed upon the otherwise smooth snow, and icy parts of it still upon his black pants. 

“What was-

He started to ask with bewilderment, but then focused upon the curly haired woman standing behind him, with her face up to the clouds and bit of sun, her hands stuck behind the back of her burgundy dress. 

“Guinevere?”  He asked with a scrutinizing look.  “Did you just-

She whistled innocently.

“Oh you did!”  He pointed sharply. 

Gwen giggled, but then Arthur was reaching down to the snow too, finding a big lump that he started to shape into a plump round snowball.

Gwen ran to a steep bank, hastily gathering her own. 

Like soldiers behind embankments and huddled deep into trenches, it began. 

_A snowball battle_.

Each of them finding their own _fortresses of protection_ , they formed and swung. 

Laughter, screaming, and running ensued as each sought to avoid the flying balls of snow while also rounding up enough of it to set up proper defense. 

The mad war continued until their banks of protection were pretty much depleted and each was starting to shiver from the times they were hit. 

Gwen was running to find another bank of safety as Arthur gave chase.  Soon enough he had his hands around her waist.  She was being swung around and he was losing his footing. 

They fell to the snow blankets in a messy heap, laughing and hollering.

Gwen hit first.  Arthur looked down at her, at especially all those dark curls of hair perfectly contrasting the whiteness, asking, “Are you hurt?”

Gwen smiled, even as she was breathing hard from all the exertion.  “No.  You?”

Arthur shook his head.  “No.”  And with her lying underneath, his lips sought hers, finding them happy to oblige.  They kissed with hands tangling through hair, his blonde waving locks, her dark ringlets, and grasping onto clothing with fervor of feeling.

_Oh_ , Gwen thought, as Arthur’s lips founds her neck and she pressed her mouth against his cold cheek to warm it.

And Arthur’s heart beat quickened as he felt her passionate response, a lift of her leg, a hand twisting through his hair while the other stroked his back and side.

It was hard to shut it off, the frenzy of desire, but after a few moments Arthur did, thinking if they didn’t get off the freezing snow they’d spend the night in their respective homes nursing off sickness.  He had plans that wouldn’t do well with that.

So with a grunt of reluctant resolution, he parted from Gwen, although whispering earnestly , “I love you.”

She didn’t look all that pleased they were ending things so suddenly either, but truth be told, her backside was starting to feel very wet where the cloak had fallen askew.  Time to get up.  “I love you too Arthur.”

He pulled at her hands and they stood together, holding each other close.

…

Later that afternoon, according to plan, Merlin picked them up.  Arthur kissed Gwen at her door and told her he looked forward to seeing her later, informing her that the celebration of twelve, being its last day, would happen earlier, before the sun’s light had faded. 

Once again he met her at the door, and yet peculiarly did not kiss her this time.  Gwen was in gold and white, a dress Arthur had once again provided her with, parts of it made by seamstresses within the kingdom, and others actually produced by Merlin enchanting it. 

…

The music was lively and full as Arthur hit his knife against his goblet, getting silence to fill the banquet hall.  The knights and Merlin all smiled with knowing as Gwen wondered what was Arthur up to this time.

It didn’t take her long to find out.

Arthur made a speech about how special she was, the handmaiden of Camelot that everyone adored, including himself.  But then there were words that Gwen swore it was like she was hearing them through a cave.  They were something she had wanted to hear for years now, but finally having them elicited from Arthur’s lips, they were a shock, especially when he kneeled down right in front of her, taking her hand in his.

“It’s taken me a long time to come to this.  Longer than it should have.  Rest assured Guinevere it was never you.”  He exchanged a look with Merlin who smiled with friendly knowing.  Then Arthur’s eyes were once again only for the woman he loved. 

“But me.  I grew up without a mother.  I was taught by my father that to be king it was about ruling the kingdom and marrying someone of noble value.  Of worth.  However, what he didn’t realize was that you are the noblest of all.  Camelot is in good stead now because of not only your wisdom, but gift for diplomacy that you extended to the honorable King Gloier, who I also thank.”

He made a respectful nod now toward the King of Sorleois who was sitting with the noble lady whom Gwen knew he would have much in common with.  They were seated so close that it warmed Gwen’s heart as it was almost overwhelmed now too by Arthur’s words of love and belief in her.

Gloier nodded back to Arthur in kind, smiling at Gwen, happy he had agreed to stay, for she was right, the Lady Aldora a lovely surprise that he was enjoying getting to know. 

Everyone listened as Arthur continued, Gwen the most, feeling his hand upon her knee, fingers linked with hers. 

“I admit now Guinevere that I have feared sometimes that I might not be able to give you enough.  For I am not a man without attachments, as you know well.  And yet I realize now that I can share that with someone else, and be no less king, no less husband.”

Gwen pressed her hand against her chest.  The word husband, so beautiful, so desired for so long.

“I’m not a romantic sort Guinevere, my Love, nor much of a dancer.  I’m a king who wears crowns poorly, more adapted to the battlefield and action, but that imbalance is where I no longer fret.  For you are a magnificent dancer, wear everything with such grace and beauty, and you temper my action with all your wisdom.  There could be no better queen for me or Camelot.  Of that I have no doubt.  Nor of how much I love you.”

Tears were falling from Gwen’s eyes now as she reached down and caressed Arthur’s cheek, holding still to it as his hand pressed against her knee, his own knee still bent in kneeling fashion.

“This must be fast.  You’ll see why soon.  So with your pardon, in days ahead, we will fulfill the other part, a coronation with you as Camelot’s queen. 

That is if this day you agree to it.  You accept my proposal and give me your hand in marriage.  Of that I ask you humbly…without any more words of decoration.”

“ _Oh_.”  Gwen whispered.

And Arthur smiled, pretending like they were the only ones there, looking into her midnight eyes, feeling like she was all in his vision.  “Will you marry me Guinevere upon this last day of twelve?  Will you join your heart with mine and become my wife?”

Gwen couldn’t help it, a sound eliciting from her mouth like that of a gasp and a spontaneous laugh of joy.  For her too it was like all surrounding had disappeared, more than magic, love creating a wall just around them, Arthur’s face raining upon her vision.  And her heart beating with such needing anticipation. 

“Yes.”  It eked out to barely a whisper as she watched Arthur’s hope turn to excitement. 

“Yes?”  He asked almost like she hadn’t said it and Gwen nodded her head vigorously, feeling the tears give a fragile burn to her cheeks as they found flow.  “Yes, oh yes I will.”

It was his own gasp of happiness that filled her ears then, his enthused sigh as she clutched his cheeks and Arthur held fast to her shoulders and waist. 

And the room. 

Oh the room suddenly came back to life, the applause and murmurs of feeling so profound, reminding them they were not alone. 

As the minstrels started up a glorious song of new life together, Arthur jumped up and in moments Gwen was fully in his arms, with him spinning her around as everyone hollered and clapped more.  Gwen smiled over his shoulder when finally Arthur stopped moving and admired the beautiful dress he picked out.  Oh no wonder, with all its little gold and white adornments of twelve.

…

Everything moved so fast after that.  Arthur excitedly told her they had to make haste and notably not a single person denied going out into the snow for the quick ceremony, all of them rushing to see what the destination would be.

Gwen knew though, smiling so fully as Arthur led her by hand and then they separated, for this part should be done apart. 

Elyan proudly led his sister over to him, walking her across the first half of the bridge to meet the king right at its middle.  The Druid priest stated the words to be repeated.  Arthur and Gwen did as told, with a few shakes in voice, so excited to finally be at this place of their lives.  It was almost like Christmas coming all over again, like the year starting its new blaze.  Five days past, last day of twelve, it was just wonderful and right. 

Arthur placed upon Gwen’s finger the ring that had been his mother’s, and then it was time.  As he lifted it from behind his back she let out amused and joyous laughter.

“The kissing bush.”

Arthur grinned.  “Almost the final time.”

“To kiss?”

He quickly shook his head.  “No.  I see a future of those being infinite.”

Gwen laughed, feeling Arthur chuckling too as his lips came down to hers, and as romantically they let everyone see, respectfully too let it be noted, the fullness of their love.

By that time the crowd included so many people, servants, villagers, just about everyone within Camelot wanting to get a glance of the soon to be new queen and their king ever so happy.  It was such a lump sum of people that some kids even sat upon their parents’ shoulders, scrunching up their faces at the kiss, but then clapping their hands when everyone else did.

And at that moment, _in those precious few moments_ , it came, the time when the sun eclipsed the clouds at just the right pinnacle.  Everyone gasped at the beauty of the ice, turned to a myriad of kaleidoscopic color and shine. 

Arthur held Gwen fast against him, whispering, “For you my wife.  Look at how the ice sparkles like magic.”

At his words Gwen lowered her head to Arthur’s chest, feeling such warmth there despite the building winds.  “Its gift is almost as wonderful as you my husband.  Almost.”

Oh how he loved the sound of that, husband, as much as she coveted the way his voice uttered wife.

Like always, the time of sun creating that magnificent show lasted no more than a handful of minutes, but nothing could take away from its temporary beauty.

…

After it had faded entirely, they returned to the banquet hall.  Arthur announced then for the servants to join too.  No more work.  Time for celebration.  Feeling so free, he even danced spiritedly with his new wife. 

The fun lasted far into the hours of night.

…

Soon though it came, the time for the king and queen to make their exit.  They rushed up the steps excitedly with chuckles and giggles. 

Of course it was there, right at the door’s top, hung for them to observe and give action to.

“The kissing bush.”  Gwen whispered.

Arthur whispered back against her face.  “The kissing bush indeed.”

He started to move in, but Gwen beat him to it, grasping her husband’s face with her hands and kissing him fully and passionately upon the lips. 

“My King.”

“My Queen.”  He whispered, even though it would be a few days before that was cemented. 

He then swept her up into his arms, getting Gwen to giggle, but as he laid her down upon the bed, decorated with holly, ivy, and mistletoe, for flowers could not sustain the winter’s cold, their laughter subsided, and taking its place was intimate touches, warm wet kisses, and discovery of desires finally set free. 

Clothing slowly was pulled away under sometimes trembling fingers, so much of it firsts for them.  Then naked, but for the covers, feeling the warm glow of the flaming fire in the hearth, and the even warmer glow of their bodies pressed so fully against each other, they opened to each, loved with vibrations of passion and aching pleasure.  As pinnacle was reached, a cry from her lips, a gasp out of his mouth, they bit down the pain and joy.  And after climax subsided they lay together with lazy indulgence.

Before morning could come, before the days of twelve came to its last seconds, Arthur pressed twelve kisses upon his wife’s bared body and she did the same for him.  Then they whispered sleepily,

“Goodnight Arthur.  Mind those snores Dear Husband.  Oh and…”

Arthur let out a squeal of surprise, before grasping her hand to bring it there again.

“Only I get to touch this part of your anatomy now.  Agreed?”  She informed him authoritatively, the question only half hearted.  As his wife, she was decreeing the law.

Arthur grinned, returning the favor, laying his hand upon her womanly rear.  “Agreed.”

Of course he couldn’t help complain, “But I do not snore like a swine, Guinevere.  Now goodnight you beautiful distracter.”

She smiled at his lack of insult.  Arthur really was such a heartfelt king, unable to put her down without fluster.  One of twelve reasons why she loved him so.

As now the twelve days ended, but no matter.  For they’d do fine without the kissing bush until the next Yuletide.

Marriage, love, and partnership would ascertain that.

_The End_

***

Thank you for reading. :)  Happy Holidays everyone and coming New Year.  Territories readers, thank you for your patience.  An update is being worked on along with a few other possible projects.  And thank you so much to rubberglue again and bound—to—you…such a joy to write this.  


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